


Let it go

by PenguinofProse



Series: Smutty Saturdays [29]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, I blame Zou, Jealous Bellamy, Karaoke, Let It Go, Modern AU, Smut, That's a tag now, fluff fluff fluff, frozen, rain kiss, shower smut, singing Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 15:47:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30024102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: In which Bellamy reveals an unexpected talent.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Smutty Saturdays [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930432
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	Let it go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OnlyZouzou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyZouzou/gifts).



> I'm sorry, a very silly conversation was happening on the 100 fics for BLM server and... this happened. I blame Zou. I hope you enjoy this bonus instalment of Smutty Saturday I guess. The real thing is to come when I finish procrastinating with this!

**If you want to encourage me to use my time more productively and raise money for good causes, you should visit<https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/>**

There's something very liberating about this evening, Bellamy has decided. This evening the whole gang are out together, starting at their favourite bar, then likely to hit the town as the hour grows later. And this evening, for the first time, Clarke has brought Niylah along for the fun.

He knows she's been seeing Niylah, on and off, for months now. They've been keeping it very casual - friends who sleep together, rather than a relationship. And so that's why silly, delusional Bellamy with his silly, delusional heart allowed himself to believe there was still a chance for him and Clarke. That she might secretly be interested in him, but only sleeping with Niylah to pass the time and figure things out.

So much for that. If it were totally casual she wouldn't have invited Niylah to come out and meet her friends tonight, would she?

So he's embraced his disappointment, now. He's admitted defeat. He's in the process of coming to terms with what has happened and accepting that Clarke will never be his.

It's liberating. Honestly it is. He can just embrace his failure and learn how to move on.

"Bellamy?"

It's Clarke herself who interrupts his thoughts. He nods at her, distracted, flustered. But _liberated_ \- it's almost a relief to know that his worst fears have been realised.

Yeah right. If he tells himself that often enough, maybe he'll even start to believe it.

"Bellamy? Are you alright? Have you had too much to drink?"

"Yeah. Must be that." He lies. He's had two beers over the whole evening so far.

"Do you need me to call you an uber? The rest of us are heading to karaoke but if you're -"

"I'm good. Karaoke. Great. Count me in."

"You sure?" She asks, eyes soft as if she's concerned. As if she actually _cares_ , he thinks, sour.

"Of course I'm sure. I love karaoke."

She snorts. "You hate karaoke. You never sing. You sit there trying to drunkenly interest me in facts about the Roman empire while -"

"I love karaoke." He snaps at her. "I'm looking forward to it. I want to sing tonight."

She shakes her head, apparently unimpressed, and makes her way back to Niylah's side.

Good for her.

Yes, it is perhaps true to say that Bellamy is not the world's biggest karaoke fan. But he can learn, can't he? This can be the first chapter of the post-Clarke story of his life. Not that he ever had Clarke to begin with, of course. But he thinks getting out there and singing a song or two could be good for him. He can show her - and himself - that he doesn't need Clarke to have fun. That just because she's the only person who can consistently make him smile, just because she has helped him through so much of his emotional baggage regarding his mother and his sister, does not mean he's disgustingly codependent on her or something.

He can survive without her. He just prefers not to.

He'll get used to it. That's what he tells himself, as they walk down the street together towards their preferred karaoke venue. That's what he tells himself, when Murphy punches him cheerfully on the arm and asks with a pointed look whether he's doing OK. That's what he tells himself, when he catches Clarke's face in profile as she laughs at something Niylah has said.

He prefers it when he's the one making her laugh, thank you very much.

So yes, fair enough, maybe he hasn't quite learnt how to moderate his jealousy yet. Maybe he's still prone to being overcome by emotions, letting his head rule his heart. But he's going to get there, damn it. He's going to get over Clarke and accept that she was never his to lose. He's going to free himself from the bittersweet prison of loving her.

When he looks at it like that, his choice of song is obvious.

He's watched _Frozen_ several times with his sister - when she was really quite a lot older than you might expect a fan of that movie to be. He doesn't judge her for it. It's a good movie, mostly heartwarming, often funny. And _Let it go_ is a spectacular song, isn't it? Emotional yet triumphant, and just a little bit _vindictive_ , he has always felt.

That makes it the perfect song for his mood tonight.

He volunteers to go first, when they arrive for karaoke. Monty looks at him like he's worried about his health. Jasper looks at him with no small dose of annoyance - the first song is usually his right. But Bellamy is not interested in waiting around tonight. He's on a mission to move on, thank you very much.

He takes the mic, steps up to the floor. The familiar introduction starts playing.

He lets loose. There's simply no other way of looking at it. He lets it all out - all the pent up emotion of loving Clarke, all the hurt of losing her just when he was allowing himself to think they might give it a go after all. He lets go of all his pain and disappointment and pours it all into his song. He tries to embrace the bittersweet victory of the words, too, but that's more of a struggle. He's not quite ready to see this as a good thing, however hard he is working to feel _liberated_.

The song is drawing to a close, now. He's upset about that, feels emotion clogging his throat. What will he do when it's over? He's relished this chance to get his feelings off his chest. Can he go again later, perhaps? A more classically sad song next time?

At last it is finished. The last notes die away. Bellamy thinks he gave a creditable performance there, really. Considering it's a song from a kids' cartoon, he thinks he gave a mature, emotional rendition of it.

Then he looks up into the crowd. He looks over at his friends. He sees Clarke looking back on him, a lost expression on her face as if she does not even know him.

Crap. He didn't mean to embarrass her or scare her. Ashamed - and no longer feeling any of Elsa's sense of sick, vindictive victory - he flees out of the room.

He heads for the smoking area. It's all grim, grey concrete. There's no one else here - just himself and his thoughts and the steady splatter of rain. He wishes it were snow. At least snow looks pretty, reminds him of childish fun. Watching the world weep like this as the sky rains down is just reminding him how much he wants to cry, too.

He jumps a mile when he hears Clarke's voice.

"I brought your jacket." She says, soft.

"I don't need it." He tells her on reflex.

"But I -"

"The cold never bothered me anyway." He tells her - a flimsy joke, but better than tears, he figures.

She snorts, sits at his side. She seems to be _wearing_ his jacket, he notes. That's not what he was expecting, somehow.

"When you said you brought my jacket, I didn't realise you were wearing it." He offers, voice flat.

"Yeah. Sorry. _You_ might be channelling Elsa but some of us feel the cold."

"It's fine. Keep it as long as you need it." He wonders about adding some dig on the subject of Niylah not offering her a jacket, but just about manages to convince himself to leave well enough alone.

"Thanks." She says simply.

And then she doesn't leave. She just sits there, wearing his jacket, watching the rain with him.

Minutes pass. Her hair is getting wet, flattening against her head. It gives him a sick feeling of satisfaction, actually. She may have ruined his life plan, this evening, but at least her neatly curled hair is ruined in return. Is that petty? It's certainly petty.

Not liberating at all.

He begins to wonder whether he ought to say something. She seems to have decided she won't, after all. And he's not used to sitting with Clarke in silence, so he supposes he had better find some words.

"You can go back inside." He tells her, a little short and cold.

She shakes her head at once. "No. I don't want to. Something's up with you. And I know you've decided you won't tell me, and I respect that. But I will sit here in the rain with you anyway."

He blinks, a little startled. She figured all that out? That he's hurting, but that he cannot talk to her about it? She got all that just from his odd manner back at the previous bar, and from one overenthusiastic Disney song?

"I don't want you to get cold." He tries, a little softer. Still inadequate, though. Isn't he always inadequate? Isn't that why Clarke has chosen Niylah instead.

"I'm fine. You lent me your jacket." She points out, daring to tease slightly.

He tries again. "And I don't want Niylah to start missing you."

Clarke shrugs. "She won't be bothered. You know what she's like - she doesn't believe in clinginess or commitment or whatever."

He frowns. This is starting to get interesting, now. That's a comment that rings rather oddly to him, really. If Niylah is not into _clinginess and commitment_ , what the hell is she doing coming out to meet Clarke's friends?

"Bellamy? Is there anything I can do?" Clarke presses - firm but soft, all at once, as is her way.

He shakes his head, tries to shake off his melancholy. "No. Nothing. Sorry. We should go back inside. Don't want your date to miss you."

She frowns at him hard. "My _date_?"

"Yeah. Your date."

"My _date_? You don't mean Niylah?"

"Who else would I mean, Clarke? You've been sleeping with her for months and now she's started showing up to karaoke night? Now she's coming along when we go out together?" He can hear his own voice spiralling away from him, but he seems powerless to stop it.

Until Clarke's hand lands on his knee, that is. Her hand is on his knee, and suddenly, all at once, all is a little closer to being right with the world.

"I've been sleeping with her _casually_ for months. I thought we were clear about that? She doesn't do relationships."

"What was I supposed to think when she turned up tonight by your side?"

Clarke laughs a tired laugh, shakes her head. "I don't know, Bellamy. I've long since given up trying to understand what you think about my love life."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks, bristling.

She simply shakes her head again, silent.

"Clarke?"

"Forget it."

"I -"

"Forget it." She bites out, more sharply this time.

Silence falls. It goes on raining. Clarke sits there, shivering despite his jacket, her hair now plastered flat against her scalp.

He stands up without quite planning to. However confused he feels right now, he is instinctively unable to sit here while Clarke is getting cold and wet. He feels her hand fall away from his knee as he moves and misses it right away.

He tries to reclaim her hand, reaching out for it to help her up to her feet. She frowns at him, evidently displeased, but entwines her fingers with his all the same.

He doesn't let go, once he's pulled her to her feet. He keeps holding on. He's not quite sure where he's going with this, only that some instinct is telling him to keep clinging tight to her hand.

And some instinct, too, is urging him to admit his most recent failure.

"The song didn't work." He says.

"What do you mean?" She asks, frowning harder than ever.

"That song. I didn't manage to _let it go_. I felt better at the time I was singing, I guess. But - yeah. It all rushed in again as soon as I was done."

She nods, her frown falling away somewhat. She steps slightly closer, as if seeking warmth, perhaps.

He swallows, follows his heart a little further down this dangerous path. "So I guess I'm relieved you're not dating Niylah." He offers, carefully light.

"Yeah?" She prompts, daring to curl her lips into the smallest of smiles.

"Yeah." He swallows again. "Don't know if you noticed, but I was a little jealous."

She doesn't make him labour the point. She hears those words and it's as if the clouds part. He can see it on her face - all at once she understands everything he isn't saying. Suddenly she's there, reaching up to kiss him, lips against lips, her cold hands tangling in his wet hair. She's kissing him urgently - almost _desperately_ \- as if she's worried he might disappear any moment.

He has no intention of going anywhere. He's sticking around for this, thank you very much, and he decides he had better show her that. He holds her hips tightly and pulls her closer still, relishing the sensation of her warm, eager body against his.

It's not until he feels her shiver again that he pulls away.

"We need to get you out of these wet clothes." He murmurs, suddenly guilty. She must be freezing.

To his surprise, she gives a light and carefree laugh. "We've been kissing two minutes and suddenly you want to take me home and get me naked?" She teases.

He grins. "That, too. But I'm also worried you've got cold while I was sitting here moping like an idiot."

"Moping like _you_." She corrects him firmly. "There's nothing stupid about it, but you do spiral, babe. Come on, let's get out of here."

He's incapable of moving. He's honestly frozen, rooted to the spot. "What did you just say?"

"Let's get out of here?" She repeats. "I thought that was what we were going for. When best friends start kissing outside the back door of a club that's normally a sign something good is happening, right?"

He laughs, nodding and taking her point. But its not what he was asking. "Not that - did you just call me _babe_?"

"Yes. I did. Now shut up and take me home."

He laughs louder still, then does as she suggests. They say their goodbyes to all their friends - including Niylah, who looks utterly unconcerned - and head for home.

It's an odd experience. He still can't quite believe it's real. He has switched so quickly from despair to joy that he's not entirely got his bearings, yet. But set against that, on the other hand, is the fact that this feels utterly comfortable. He's been best friends with Clarke for so long that it feels natural and easy to walk home hand-in-hand, chatting about everything and nothing. They joke about Jasper's latest prank, then talk about their exasperation with Miller and his reluctance to ask out his latest crush, Jackson. They discuss how happy they are for Monty and Harper, and their relief at the good news that Monroe is happy in her new job.

It's not until they are opening his front door that Bellamy dares to address the elephant in the room.

"And... _us_?" He asks, with no attempt at subtlety. "What's this? What are we doing?"

Clarke bites her lip a little. "I hope we're getting together."

" _Together_ together? You - you _like_ me how I like you?"

"Something like that." She agrees, slightly tense.

He nods. He thinks that's good enough for one night. Clarke is not great at being honest about her emotions - that's why he was so convinced that her inviting Niylah out with them tonight was some kind of sign, even if she never mentioned a thing about it. And Bellamy doesn't even know where to start with situations like this. He's more one for bottling up his feelings and then letting them go in an emotional outburst - kind of like what happened tonight, if he's being honest.

Considering that, he thinks they're doing remarkably well to have got this far. They've made it home together, with some kissing and handholding, and with the suggestion that they should get together. That's more success than he ever dared dream of, in fact, even when he would dream about being with Clarke.

He gets on with enjoying the moment. He kisses her again - but softer and more tender than that first rainsoaked kiss. He slips his jacket from around her shoulders, rubs his hands over the cold skin of her arms.

"This is a cute dress, but it was never going to keep you warm." He reprimands her softly.

She nods. "I like borrowing your jacket." She points out. Yes. He does seem to remember she's done that once or twice before.

Maybe she'll wear his clothes even more often, now they're together and all.

He sets the jacket aside, takes her hand and starts leading her down the hall.

"Where are we going?"

"Shower." He says simply.

She nods, accepting that, and reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek for no apparent reason.

They arrive at the bathroom. They strip each other naked, amidst a mess of frantic kisses. Bellamy turns the shower on, shepherds Clarke into the cubicle when the water has warmed up. It's going to be a bit of a squeeze, fitting them both in here when it's such a small bathroom, but he's determined to make it work. He tries to help her wash, soaping down her arms, but finds himself somehow distracted by kissing her instead.

"Is the shower to warm me up or is it an excuse to have shower sex?" Clarke asks pertly.

He laughs against her lips. "Both?"

"Thank god for that." She says with feeling. "You clean? I'm on the pill."

"Yeah. Are you - uh - you're saying we're good without a condom?"

"Yeah."

All at once, she's touching him. Not just polite, chaste touches of the face or hands, oh no. She's touching him everywhere, all at once, it feels like. She's running gentle fingers over his chest, exploring his back with just the faintest bite of eager nails. She's grabbing at his butt, squeezing his biceps.

And then, at last, she's curling her hand around his cock and giving it a few confident tugs.

He keeps pace with her as best he can. Still kissing her, still standing under the stream of hot water, he makes a start on exploring her body, too. He's cupping her curves in his hands as respectfully as he can manage, kissing her with an urgency he fears might come across as a little rude.

She tugs his cock again. Apparently she's not complaining, then. This seems like the very definition of _enthusiastic consent_.

"Do you trust me?" He whispers.

"Always."

"Then wrap your arms around my neck and don't let go."

She does. He scoops her up, gets her hips set against the wall and his arms secure around her waist. She helps him out, her legs coming up to grip him tightly. It's a slippery mess, his feet desperate for purchase on the shower floor, but they manage. He gets himself lined up and eases inside of her with a groan.

He knows he should probably save the groaning for later. But even this feels good, damn it.

Clarke's already moving, trying to rock her hips and get some friction.

"Leave it." He recommends, tense and somewhat nervous. "Don't want to drop you. Stop wriggling and let me do the work for a change."

She moans a little complaint into his mouth, but she does stop moving in his arms.

He makes up for it, thrusting against her as best he can. It's going OK, actually. She's pretty light and pretty determined, holding onto him tight. She's wedged against the side of the shower and he's worried that might not be comfortable, but she doesn't seem to be complaining.

No. Certainly not complaining - rather she is starting to moan the most delicious moans.

"You OK?" He asks her softly.

"Yeah. Great. You?" She huffs out, already breathless.

That makes him feel rather smug. She's clearly already pretty far gone for him. That makes him feel like he can relax and allow himself to enjoy it a little more, too. He can simply sink into the rhythm and concentrate on how good it feels.

_Fantastic_. That's how good it feels, for the record - genuinely like something straight out of a fantasy. Or perhaps even better than that.

Clarke gets there first. He's not surprised about that - she's always been competitive, hasn't she? She always does like to beat him at anything and everything. She's as good at coming as she is at everything else, it turns out. She puts on quite the pretty show for him, flushing red and groaning loudly as she throws her head back against the tiles.

He's still going. He hopes that's OK. He doesn't want to disappoint her in any way on this first magical night. He rocks his hips a little faster, clings to Clarke's waist a little tighter. He -

"You're OK. You can _let it go_." Clarke prompts him, teasing.

He laughs, groans, comes all at once. It's the strangest moment of his life, honestly. It feels so good - even as his pleasure is slightly interrupted by amusement, too. But mostly it feels intimate in a more emotional way rather than just the purely physical. This is Clarke, still, and she jokes with him while they're having sex just as she jokes with him while they're playing a game or watching a movie.

That feels like victory, he decides. It feels like a purely happy victory, not the cold bittersweetness he was stuck on earlier tonight.

He comes down slowly, breathing hard. He sets Clarke back on her feet, looks up consideringly at the shower head. Should he turn the water off now? Are they done here? He wishes there were some kind of rulebook for getting together with his closest friend.

"You good?" She asks softly.

"Perfect. You?"

" _Almost_ perfect. I figure I need to dry off and go find a T shirt of yours to wear while we cuddle on the couch or something."

He nods, a smile threatening to split his face. "I like the sound of that."

"Which part? Me stealing your clothes or cuddles on the couch?"

"Both. All of it. Everything about figuring out how us being together is going to work."

She nods, grinning, and reaches up to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

"Agreed. Come on. Let's go watch _Frozen_ and sing along to _love is an open door_."

Frankly, he can think of better uses for both Clarke's mouth and his own. But he has learnt, tonight, that singing can sometimes have rather unexpected advantages. So it is that the turns off the water and steps out of the shower side by side with Clarke.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
